And Goodness Knows
by sarijw
Summary: “You know, you didn’t tell me when you kidnapped me helplessly from my mother’s loving arms that you were not, in fact, taking me on a tour of time and space but were, in actuality, taking me on a search for the Best Chips in the Universe.”
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** And Goodness Knows (1/3)  
**Pairing:** 9/Rose. Ish.  
**Rating:** G, possibly with bits of T for safety.  
**Word Count:** 2,697  
**Spoilers:** None to speak of, however, takes place before The Empty Child.  
**Disclaimer:** I own Christopher. Until his lawyers find out. I've got David on backorder.  
**A/N: **The author's note is that there is no author's note. That, and, I can't believe I'm doing this. I've been out of the fanfic business for quite some time. I guess I'm jumping back into it.

**Summary:** If his feelings were maybe a bit stronger for her than hers for him, it wasn't anyone's business but his.

* * *

"Are you_ ever_ going to listen to me?" He hissed at her from the side of his mouth, keeping his eyesight straight ahead. "Just once? For Christmas, maybe? Or maybe my birthday?" 

"You have a birthday?" Rose asked, turning to face him, eyes widening. The Doctor merely rolled his eyes and glared, not meeting her gaze. "No, really," she said, skidding to a stop and tugging on the hand he was gripping tightly, forcing him to stop as well. "A birthday? Isn't that a little…well…_ape-ish_?"

Letting out an exasperated sigh, he stopped and turned to look at her, his electric blue eyes snapping over her.

"I was born, wasn't I?"

"Well, for all I know, it was in an egg." She frowned, leaned a little closer, questioning, "it wasn't in an egg, was it?"

"You can really be a right git."

"You're very rude," Rose admonished. "That's new. Is this going to be a habit?"

"Only where you're concerned," he said, flashing a falsely cheery smile.

"Lovely." She gave the same sickening smile back to him and she shook her hand free of his and stalked off.

"Oh, for…Rose, you insulted me _first_. You said I came from an_ egg_."

"_You_," she said, marking emphasis by poking him hard in the chest, "are an alien. Aliens come from eggs," she said precisely. He rolled his eyes again, rubbing his chest where she'd poked him. "That, too!" She exclaimed, pointing at him accusingly. "That's a new habit, too!"

"Birds come from eggs, too. But I don't go around insulting you."

"Oi, cheeky!" He raised his eyebrows and turned on the heel of his boot, walking quickly in the direction they were headed. She trailed after him and shoved his shoulder. "I don't know what's been with you lately. Rude. Cheeky. That's not like you."

"Call it atmosphere," he muttered, so low she almost didn't hear him over the scuttle of the sand beneath their feet.

"_Atmosphere_? What the hell's that mean?" She demanded as they neared the TARDIS. Suddenly he spun and grabbed her, pushing her against the outer wall of the blue ship so hard she let out a puff of air. "Oi, what's the—"

"You almost died today, Rose," he said lowly and not unkindly. His voice was deep and threatening and she felt all the humour drain right out of her toes. "You almost died and I almost couldn't get to you in time. I _lucked _out, do you understand? It wasn't a plan, it wasn't timed. If that got guard hadn't gotten sick, you would be dead. And you're being flippant, like your life doesn't matter. Well, it matters to me, do you hear me? So just shut up for once and act like a damned adult and realise what almost happened to you, will you?"

He was nearly shouting by the end of his speech, but Doctor-shouting, which was really speaking firmly and loudly in a restrained matter meant for you to realise that he was very disappointed in you and shrink you as small as possible.

It was working.

"I'm sorry, Doctor."

"Damned right you better be sorry."

"I am," she said in a small voice. "I don't know why I'm being like this. I don't mean to seem ungrateful."

"For…" Trailing off and sighing, he pulled back from her, letting go of the front of her hoodie. He pressed his finger tips to his closed eyelids, letting out an exasperated breath. "Don't cry, Rose. I didn't mean to yell at you."

"I deserved it." He shook his head and looked at her again, stroking the backs of his fingers across her cheek as if she were made of fragile china.

"No, you don't deserve it. Just letting off steam, I guess. I'm sorry, for what it's worth," he offered.

"Are we okay?"

"Of course. C'mon," he said, all traces of anger gone, a small, secretive smile on his handsome face. He nodded toward the TARDIS behind her. "Let's go find a chippie, take a break."

"Can we go back to that one planet?" He laughed as she followed him into the main room of the ship. "Hush. You know, the one with the purple and pink chips? They were the _best_."

"I like the green ones better," he said stubbornly, setting the coordinates for the planet with the pink and purple chips. It was an old argument between them. And she always won.

* * *

"You know," Rose intoned around a mouthful of chips, "you didn't tell me when you kidnapped me helplessly from my mother's loving arms—" 

"Shut it, will you? Someone's going to take you seriously one of these days."

"—that you were not, in fact, taking me on a tour of time and space," she continued as if he hadn't spoken, "but were, in actuality, taking me on a search for the Best Chips in the Universe." She stuffed another forkful of chips in her mouth, chewing thoughtfully.

He snorted and studied the flamingo-pink chip speared on the tines of his fork-like utensil.

"Me, taking you on a tour. I'll have you know, I never had a chip in my life before you came along, Ms. Tyler." He looked up at her silence, saw her disbelieving look she was giving him as she stopped mid-chew, one dark brow cocked. "Well," he amended. "Not in a long time, anyway."

"You can always say no," she said after she swallowed. She took a sip of the tart merconga berry juice from the glass in front of her before setting it back down with a _thunk_ and letting out an audible_ahh_. He glanced down at the mostly-empty plate of chips in front of him before looking at her nearly full one. His stomach rumbled.

He popped the chip on his fork-like utensil in his mouth and chewing, switched their plates, digging into hers as she pouted.

"Rude," she muttered. "Like I _said_." She stabbed into one of the few remaining chips on his…now _her_... plate, glaring at the top of his head but he didn't seem to notice.

"Do Time Lords go bald?" She asked innocently. "Or have you just never had a lot of hair?" Raising his head, one eyebrow lifted, he looked at her disdainfully.

"At least it's my natural." She just narrowed her eyes and glared at him and he grinned cheerfully. "Wanna discuss my makeup habits next?" She pulled a face at him before stabbing into the chips again.

They ate in companionable silence for a bit. She muttered a bit when he started drinking from her glass after draining his, but it was typical and she didn't really care. She only muttered for posterity's sake at this point. She nudged her plate with the last remaining chips toward him, setting her fork-like utensil down and leaning her head on her fist.

"Someone would think I never feed you," she joked. He grinned before finishing off her juice and swallowing.

"You don't," he retorted. "Who paid for this meal, I'd like to know?"

"You paid. _For once_. I _always_ pay. Rich you may be, but it doesn't help if you don't carry money with you."

"I'll just lose it. Besides, I'll pay you back." Rose rolled her eyes.

"Sure, you will. Forget by the time we get back to the TARDIS, more like." He mockingly rolled his eyes at her.

"All you do is bitch and nag, like some underappreciated housewife. If that's not _domestic_—"

"You do enjoy being rude, don't you?" Rose teased. "Makes you feel_manly_." At his pointed look, she sighed, feigning impatience. "Fine. Makes you feel _Time Lordy_."

"You're very full of adjectives today."

"I'm in an adjectivey sort of mood," Rose replied. She played with her empty glass, stopping only when he took her hand, playing with her fingers lightly, that secret, playful smile on his face again.

"That you are. Ready to go?"

"If we must."

"We must." He stood and held his arm out to her. She took it reluctantly, as if it were dirty and he laughed, grabbing her hand and tugging her from the café.

* * *

It was rare that her evenings weren't spent tumbling back to the ship in pain or covered in…things best not to think about and Rose relished them like her mother did precious jewels. 

Tugging a thick pair of slipper-socks onto her feet, she gathered up her duvet, wrapping it around her body and her stuffed, orange cat, Tabby Kitty and prepared to head to the theatre room for a long evening of watching the cheesiest, most sickeningly feel-good chick flicks she could fine.

She was heading down the hall, looking for all the world like a giant, painfully pink, kitten-eating monster as the blanket shuffled down the corridor. She heard a sniggering and paused, adjusting her arms and tugging down a bit of the blanket that blocked her peripheral vision. The Doctor was standing there, in the opening to another corridor trying unsuccessfully to hide his mirth from her.

She quirked an eyebrow.

"Problem?" He cleared his throat, managing to tone it down to barely concealed twitches of the corners of his mouth.

"I am going to watch movies. Care to join me?"

"I know what sort of movies you watch when you're in that get up. No thanks. Next thing, you'll be sobbing on my shoulder. What's the point in watching movies with happy endings if they're going to make you bawl like a baby?"

"They're_ touching _and _heartfelt_. And the actors are cute." Her grin quirked and he rolled his eyes again.

"Right and I bet all the movies you have lined up have that one bloke in, don't they?" He said exasperatedly.

"So what if they do!" Rose burst out, equally exasperated. This was an old conversation. "He is a de—"

"A dedicated, talented actor with unreachable depths. Right. I know."

"You're _jealous_."

"Jealous!" He sputtered. "Of _that_ wanker? You must be joking."

"Yep," Rose said gleefully. "Jealous." She stroked the top of Tabby Kitty's head and said slowly, "Excellent…"

He blinked, shaking his head and walked away, muttering "you're_really _not right…"

Shuffling down the rest of the corridor, Rose made her way to the theatre room, settling into her favourite chair and reaching for the multi-purpose remote control that was sitting on the cushion next to her. She programmed the movies she wanted to see and then settled back to enjoy the show.

The Doctor showed up not long after Rose had fallen asleep. If not a habit for him, it definitely was for her and after the first few times he'd popped in on her and found her asleep, he found himself always checking on her on her movie nights so he could get her to bed in a more comfortable place. Picking up the multi-purpose remote, he turned off the screen before setting the remote gently on the end table and gathering her together, blanket and all, lifting her easily into his arms and carrying her down the corridor to her room.

He laid her down gently on the bed and stood back, waiting while she automatically adjusted to get comfortable, cocooned in her duvet. Leaning down, he lightly ran his hand over her hair before kissing her temple.

She murmured the same thing she murmured every time he brought her to bed like this, a simple "night, Doctor, love you" mumbled more out of habit than anything in particular.

He knew how she meant it and he felt the same way.

Mostly.

If his feelings were maybe a bit stronger for her than hers for him, it wasn't anyone's business but his.

He murmured "night, Rose, love you, too" against her temple, brushing one last kiss over her cheek before straightening and leaving her room quietly, keeping the door slightly cracked.

He meant it, too.

* * *

"_This_?" Rose shrieked loud enough from the wardrobe room that he could hear her where he stood at the console. "I'm meant to wear _this_?" Her volume reached ear-splitting and he winced as she reached the control room, holding the confection of a dress in front of her, shaking it like it wasn't made of several thousand Earth-dollars of silk, satin and lace. 

"Yes, Rose."

"I have to wear a corset with this!" She exclaimed, thrusting the dress at him, grabbing either side of the bodice and showing him how impossibly tiny it appeared. He, for his part, tried not to picture Rose in a corset.

"You can't go out in a hoodie and jeans," he said, reasonably. "We'd be shot on sight, likely. Or I would, at least. And you'd be put in a home for disreputable girls."

"Disreputable!" She sputtered. She glared down at the pink and cream dress in her hands. "Disreputable," she muttered. "I'll bloody well show them disreputable," floated to his ears as she stalked off the way she'd came.

He was leaning over the console, writing something on a small pad of paper when he heard her heels click on the grating and looked up. Immediately, his pencil fell from numb fingers, his mouth going slack as his jaw dropped in shock.

"Rose—" Was that really his voice that came out like a squeak? Well, it was hardly his fault, the girl wasn't even dressed. He was only a Time Lord, and a man under that. A _Gallifreyan_ man, sure, but just a man and when a woman like Rose came out in just—

"Doctor, I need your help putting this corset on." His mouth opened and closed a couple times as he stared at her as she stood in the doorway, a flimsy petticoat not concealing her hot pink knickers, barely holding the pink and black corset on and in place.

She picked her way carefully across the console room, and came up beside him. He still hadn't said anything.

"You all right?" She asked, amusedly. Without realising he was even responding, he nodded. "Good. Help, then." She turned around and bared her long, smooth expanse of bare back to him.

Did the bloody woman think he was a _saint_?

He picked up the ends of the laces where she'd left off. Her back was pale, narrow and did she know she had that mole right _there_? He touched a fingertip lightly to the spot just underneath her right shoulder blade, blinking in surprise when she shuddered underneath him.

Shaking his head, trying to clear his throat as softly as possible, he began to thread the laces into the eyelets slowly, his nerveless fingers shaking more than he'd like, willing them not to brush across her back.

Once he had threaded the last eyelet, he instructed her to put her hands on the edge of the console and placed his hands on her hips to steady her as she adjusted. He studied the loosely laced corset covering her and realised the intimacy of their position, the arousal shooting through him stunningly. Desperately, he shifted away from her a bit and took a steadying breath.

"Doctor?"

He didn't answer her and moved his hands to her back, tightening the laces slowly and methodically. She grunted a bit and maybe he pulled harder than he intended to, but he could excuse it as only doing what was right for the corset and the dress and not as being distracted.

"There you are, then." He stepped back, immediately crossing his arms and ignoring her as she groaned, straightening.

"I can't believe you're making me wear this."

"You're the one that wanted to go to the Governor's Ball, not me."

"I don't ever think of the costume changes. I don't see you getting into silk stockings and knee breaches," she retorted, turning to face him. He studiously avoided looking below her chin.

"No," he chucked her chin, "and you never will, either. Go get dressed."

"Yes, master," Rose muttered to him, giving him a mock salute and stalking from the room. He studied her retreating back, letting out a deep breath.

"The next one's going to look like Margaret Thatcher," he muttered to no one at all.

_end chapter_

* * *

_ Please review if you have the time. Thanks for reading!_


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** And Goodness Knows (2/3)  
**Pairing:** 9/Rose. Ish.  
**Rating:** G, possibly with bits of T for safety.  
**Word Count:** 1,586  
**Spoilers:** None to speak of, however, takes place before The Empty Child.  
**Disclaimer:** I own Christopher. Until his lawyers find out. I've got David on backorder.  
**A/N:** The author's note is that there is no author's note. That, and, I can't believe I'm doing this. I've been out of the fanfic business for quite some time. I guess I'm jumping back into it. 

**Summary:** If his feelings were maybe a bit stronger for her than hers for him, it wasn't anyone's business but his.

* * *

"Why am I always running for my life?"

"Does it look like we're running?"

"Excuse me. Why am I always-climbing-a-cliff-face-or-some-other-equally-disturbing-adventure-ing-for-my-life?" Rose gripped the rocks with bruised fingers and risked a glance up at the Doctor. He pulled a face.

"Very funny, Rose."

"You're the one who asked for specifics."

"Shut it." He climbed a few more feet and hoisted himself over the rocky ledge, kicking dust and pebbles down at her. She coughed and shook her head, trying to remove the dust from her eyes without removing her hands from the side of the bluff. She moved up another six inches. The Doctor's head appeared over the edge of the cliff, peering down at her with his eyebrows raised.

"Are you coming?"

"Ha. Very funny," she snapped. She lifted herself another six inches, the toe of her right boot barely finding purchase. She ignored that thought. "You're also in a jumper and jeans, not a corset and half a tonne of fabric."

Suddenly his arms appeared over the edge, long, strong fingers reaching down for her wrists. Taking a chance, she lifted her hand and batted his fingers away. He glared at her and secured a hand around her wrist.

"What the hell is your problem?"

"I can get myself up, ta!" His glare only intensified and he tugged on her wrist, hoisting her. The toes of her fancy-dress boots skidded over the rock face and she struggled to gain a grip.

Without warning, he gave one hard jerk on her wrist before letting it go completely. With a shriek, she dropped three metres before she was able to grab a protruding root. A sharp pain shot through her shoulder and arm as her entire weight wrenched the root another metre.

Pebbles and dirt rained down on her from the top of the cliff and she sputtered, turning her head and trying to blink the dust out of her eyes. This was clearly a bad idea as she could now see how far, _exactly_, she would have to contemplate her imminent death as she fell.

Muttering, she reached her other arm up and hooked her sore, bruised and cut fingertips into the tiny space she could find for a grip.

With her fingers slightly more stable, she lifted first one foot and then the other, gaining purchase on a tiny ledge, just big enough for her toes.

Feeling a bit—not much, but a bit—steadier, she let herself take a deep breath and survey her situation.

"Okay," she said reassuringly to herself. "We've been completely abandoned by the Doctor. He hasn't stuck his fat head over the ledge, so obviously he's moved onto greener pastures." She looked over her shoulder at the barren, dusty vastness that he had the bollocks to call a _luxury planet. _"Scratch that. Other pastures, not necessarily green. This planet wouldn't know green if it got hit in its big, stupid, planet-y face with it."

She sighed, inched herself up a bit.

"Really, he's going to hear it. His ears will _bleed _he's going to hear so much from me. And then he'll die from blood loss because of the size of his great, big, bloody ears. The git," she muttered. She continued her diatribe as she slowly climbed the cliff face, regaining the ground she had lost.

Her fingers finally found the rim and she slowly hoisted herself up, peeking over the edge. Her caution was unwarranted, because no one was about – including the Doctor.

She let out an offended shriek and struggled to get her weight over the edge, on to the wide platform, scrabbling for a hold. What she must've looked like, trying to haul herself over in her heavy, voluminous dress, never occurred to her because she was too busy chanting "do not die, do not die, Mum will kill you, do not die" under her breath.

She lay on her front for a moment, catching her breath and groaning as the pain began to radiate through her shoulder, arm and chest in earnest. Using her good arm, she pushed herself into a sitting position and began to survey her surroundings.

It was much like the valley floor they had left, only without cliffs. She liked it better already. She climbed to her feet, wincing at the white-hot knives of pain shot through her shoulder and upper arm. She cradled her arm to her chest, keeping it still.

The Doctor was nowhere to be seen. And there was nowhere he could hide because there was nothing big enough to hide his big stupid head behind. The ground was rocky and cracked, with small waves of cinnamon-colored sand scattering across it in what miniscule breeze there was and the sky was bleached out, with barely a hint of blue. The sun was a roasting, whiter disc in the almost white sky.

"Doctor?" She called. She took a few shuffling steps forward. It would be easier across the desert if she could take off her heels but she didn't want to imagine what would happen to her feet if she stepped onto the baking sand barefoot. "Doctor, this isn't funny!" Her voice echoed, barely, in the distance, but there was no response. She lifted her hand to shade her eyes, but there was nothing to see. She'd never seen anything so barren.

She dropped her gaze, trying to determine if she could see what direction he'd gone, but the desert floor gave away nothing. A small, pearlescent, scorpion-like creature crossed in front of her and she held her breath so she wouldn't scream.

She didn't need to go around offending residents of this planet, what with not knowing where the Doctor was. Knowing her luck, she'd kill the scorpion and then be arrested by a large contingent of scorpion-like creatures for killing their queen.

What was with aliens, anyway? Honestly, who wanted to look like a scorpion? Weren't they supposed to be evolutionarily more advanced? She'd have to ask the Doctor.

When she _found _him.

* * *

A glass of water.

She could picture it.

A tall, frosty glass of water; the cool, crispness of the crystal clear liquid reflecting her image as she ran her fingers through the condensation covering the outside.

She could feel it, like liquid ice, as it filled her mouth and flowed down, soothing her parched throat and cooling her entire body.

She opened her eyes, sighed.

The scenery hadn't changed much. Not much to change in a desert, really. Too bad she'd learned to like variety. The rock she was leaning against was digging into her back in _just _the right way. Her right shoulder felt four times its normal size, throbbing ever larger with every single heartbeat and she could no longer move it. In fact, it felt as if her entire arm had seized up, grasped tightly to her chest, just under her breasts. It hurt less as she breathed that way, but it didn't help much when she stumbled and fell.

She lifted a hand up to the scrapes and cuts on her cheeks and forehead. They seemed to have stopped bleeding, but the sun was baking her raw.

Taking a deep breath, she climbed to her feet again, carefully. She didn't know how long it had been. The sun had completely rotated in the sky, or so she thought, or she could be hallucinating. This part of the planet seemed to have eternal sunshine, thank you very much, Doctor.

She had gone no more than a dozen metres when she stopped.

However, not by her own choice.

It was as if she had hit a force field, but that sounded far too Star Wars-y or Star Trek-y, so she was going to pretend she hadn't said it and lifted her hand, pushing it against the solid, well, air.

Frowning, she ran her hand up and down, but couldn't seem to push through. Under her hand, what felt like stone was cool and soft, even, despite the mid-day...or night?...sun.

"Okay, so there's an invisible building. Right. Really, I'm not surprised. After a Slitheen, nothing surprises me anymore. As long as the building doesn't fart and unzip its fore—oh."

She stepped back as the area around where her hand had been began to shimmer and buckle. The wavering light spread and spread until suddenly it was solid, a long, impossibly long building, stretching on either side of her, as far as her eyes could see, rising above her so high she couldn't see the top without falling backward.

A huge wooden door stood ahead of her and she looked around. She was still alone, of course. She walked up to the door and gave a hard tug on bronzed handle, stumbling back a little when the door swung open easily.

The relief was instant, when she stepped into the dim, cool hall. She stood still, letting her eyes adjust and rubbed her upper arm with her good hand, when the goosebumps popped up. She moved forward down the hallway, following the faint murmur of voices.

She found another heavy door and leaned close. The voices were definitely coming from inside. She glanced over her shoulder at the oversized fireplace she had passed and moved to it, carefully sliding the fireplace poker out of the stand. She crept back over to the door and, taking a deep breath, pushed open the door.

The sight that greeted her stunned her and the end of the poker hit the marble floor with a loud clang.

_end chapter_

* * *

_Please review if you have the time!_


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